Under the Mistletoe
by thanks-for-the-breasthat
Summary: The grounded teens decide that things are getting too serious around the camp, and play a prank on their arguing leaders. Bellarke one shot.


**Takes place almost immediately after Raven's pod reaches the ground. Prompted from a tumblr post.**

Clarke holds back the curtain for Raven to enter the dropship and then follows her inside. There's an absurdly large number of people milling around who seem to be doing nothing in particular. She doesn't have time to worry about that, though, with medical supplies to inventory and restock from what they can in the woods. She's in charge of gathering edible plants in the afternoon, so there's all that to worry about too on top of finding a way to communicate with the Ark from Raven's pod supplies _and_ dealing with damn Bellamy Blake, the little shit who suddenly thought he was in charge.

Just because he knows how to get a group of teenagers to listen to him doesn't make him anything special.

"Any luck with communications yet?" the very person she doesn't want to see says as he comes down the ladder from the second level.

She and Raven pause and look up towards the voice. Just because he has the finest ass she's ever seen doesn't mean she should pay attention to whatever he has to say.

"Not yet," Raven says as he hops down the last few rungs, landing with a firm thud on the metal floor. Clarke can see the gun in the hips of his pants, shirt pulled over the bulge.

Everyone in the room glances up at the sound and he seems to know it. Drama queen.

"We should be making some progress tonight after I get the latest radio part installed."

Bellamy nods briskly, eyeing Clarke while Raven talks. She folds her arms across her chest and returns his look with equal fervor. What a creep. And to think that some girls _preferred_ bad boys.

"Let me know if anything changes." A crease appears in his forehead and he places his hands on his hips.

Damn his arms. Why are they so muscular? He probably works out just so he can sleep with all those girls and make the whole camp listen in on his threesomes.

Suddenly she's aware of the rapt attention of the rest of the teenagers in the dropship and the snickers and pointing from those close by.

What the. . .

Bellamy glances around and then up.

Up?

Clarke looks up to see a tiny sprig of green tied near the ladder. It clicks the moment she hears laughs from the other teens in the dropship. Mistletoe.

"Who's bright fucking idea is this?" Bellamy snorts, looking around.

Even Raven is laughing a little and Clarke keeps quiet. They should be worried about food and shelter, connecting to the Ark, not childish games like making their two arguing leaders kiss for God's sake.

Then the chanting starts: a slow "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" that no one wants to initiate alone.

Bellamy's eyebrows rise slightly when he meets her eyes. He's asking permission.

She purses her lips. She does _not_ want to kiss Bellamy. The rest of the teens are shouting now.

"Well, Princess? Don't tell me you're too high and mighty for a simple kiss?" Bellamy says and steps closer. Why is he so much taller than her?

"Maybe you just wish I was," she retorts. Where the hell did _that_ come from?

He smirks at that and she can see how he gets so many girls into his tent. There's even a little ball of anxiety in her stomach now that she knows what's coming.

His hair is ruffled at odd angles, dirty waves curling at his neck.

"I wouldn't peg you as the type to go for it."

"You don't know anything about me."

His hands slip around her waist, eye contact steady. She can feel his palms through her jacket and shirt, pressing against her lower back.

"Good God, just kiss already," Raven groans.

Clarke glances to her friend, but she can feel Bellamy's eyes solely on her. He's still looking at her face, damn him. Why does it bother her so much?

"Come on, Princess, it's just for fun."

So she faces him head on, standing on her toes before she can stop herself—just get it _over_ with or everyone will think you're even more of a prude than they do now—and presses her lips to his.

He seems surprised at first, lips stiff against hers.

One.

Two.

Three.

She pulls back but his head follows hers, lips breaking contact for half a second, and then he's _kissing_ her kissing her. It's not a joking peck anymore, some sort of kiss a ten year old calls a "real kiss."

Suddenly it's everything a kiss should be, his mouth open against hers, tongue dragging along her lip.

Damn.

_Damn._

What the hell are you doing?! Moreover, why are you _enjoying_ kissing the man who thinks he rules the world?

He pulls her lower lip in between his teeth and something warm shoots down her spine, the same feeling that comes when Finn gives her that mischievous smile of his. Somewhere in the back of her mind she can hear the hoots and collars of the other teens in the room.

_Don't stop_, that hungry voice lying in wait insists, originating from the same part of her mind that tells her to put a hand on his chest to feel the hard muscle she's only seen from afar. _You _want_ him._

The logical voice rises above it, pulls back from the warm lips against hers.

She meets the brown eyes that are hovering far too close. She can't place his expression—that only irks her—but her heart is pounding in her chest.

Her fingers resting against his sternum suddenly register that his heart is racing just as fast. She feels his hands slip from her back and they both step away from each other.

Well _damn_ does Bellamy Blake know how to kiss a girl.

Maybe the bad boys aren't so unattractive after all.


End file.
